Little Snowberries in the Woods
by NorthernEyes
Summary: Had to re-post due to major typo's.  An A.U Historic Fanfic, of when Viking!Norway and Viking!Denmark found a little island... and a little albino boy. M rating because it will likely turn to a NorDen smut at some point. I hope you enjoy my first fanfic!
1. A boy and a puffin

When that God-awful excuse for a ship finally pulled into land, Kjell would be first off it. He hated travelling in a long boat; truly he did, for it was never a calm sail. The ocean was a cruel, calculating witch, in his mind, and seemed Odin and Thor themselves went out of their way to worsen his experience on the boat, throwing their blades of lightning into the waters, and crashing that monstrous hammer of thunder in the heavens. At least now it was gone. However... this place... it did not seem like Britain at all. Their mission had been but a simple one. Invade a monastery, kill all in their path, and take all the gold and treasures back to their Nordic homelands. What they had not counted on was the storm that had decided to rear its ugly, feared head. Trust me; there is no worse place to be in a storm, than the open waters.

A pair of leather boots landed with a thud and uneasy rumble onto the craggy rocks and pebbles. Many followed afterwards. This appeared to be a craggy coastline, a beach, at any rate. Foggy too, which had been so, ever since they had neared the land mass. The man leading this small group of praised warriors? None other than Kjell himself, who was currently wandering the boulders of the so called 'beach.' He was a fairly tall man, though perhaps not compared to his men, -something he was secretly mocked for-, with short, straw toned hair, and eyes of amazing, blue dullness. It was a rare thing, to have such colours in ones genetics, considering most men were brunettes. Even back then, the Vikings bleached their hair with a strong soap, to obtain blonde. It was well sought after. These fighters were rather smart, too. Except for... that one. That one who had so carelessly /fell/ off the boat, instead of jumping off the longboat. That damn idiot that went by the name of Mathias. When Kjell's ears picked up on the sound of that thick voiced male call out to him. He took off into the deep fog, not wishing to put up with his Danish companion at the moment.

He must have rushed off for either quite some time, or a considerable distance, taking in the fact that Mathias could not actually be heard. All the while, he took in the strangeness of this shrouded land. The snow was fairly deep, and everything was just... white. He could not see well in front of him, and there was nothing to see underneath him, and the skies were either obscured by troublesome clouds or ominous mist. It did not matter either way. "...Such an odd land..." This Nordic male muttered to himself, drawing his blade from its sheath. One could not be too careful in an unknown land. After all, Kjell had received an awful shock when he saw an elk wander past him, grunting at his presence, as though he were some, strange being. By no means was this an animal he had never had contact with but... Kjell only knew it to exist back in his own home. Did this mean... no. They could not have possibly sailed from Norway, and then ended up /back/ in Norway! That was... highly foolish! He would be laughed at forever!

He continued mentally abusing himself with these terrible images of his failure until his legs carried him to what was, apparently, a forest. A dark one, with evergreen tree's stretching far into the heavens, to the point that Kjell thought the Gods may sit on the branches comfortably. Consequently, they appeared to have completely sheltered the woodland forests from snow, but not the ice. The frosting of nature sat on the brown, fallen needles of the tree's, interrupted only by a log, or a piece of rotten bark, or a frozen over puddle, amidst the hazy floors on the natural world. "...What a drastic change..." The blonde silently marvelled, sorting the furs and pelts that covered his body to keep him warm. All of them were too big though... having once belonged to the Dane back at the long ship. Kjell was considering returning back to those idiots, feeling that, with Mathias in control, everyone would be drunk in no time. What stopped him? A simple bird. Not that he had seen many of this kind before, perhaps only one or two in his life time, with its white underbelly, black back feathers and head cap, the sides of its head also a pure white, and an almost angry expression graced its features, but this was not it's stand out feature, no, it was that comical beak. It started off in a greyish agate colour, then with a cream streak separating it from the bright, unmistakable vermillion that was on display at the front of the beak. What were they called now... puffins? Yes, he was fairly certain these birds were called puffins.

The bird bleated at him in bravery, puffin out its chest and spreading its fairly small wing span in an act of defiance. Perhaps it had eggs nearby? What did it matter, Kjell was planning to make it his lunch. So that is why he held his sword rather high, surprised the air-borne creature would not flinch, as if it had accepted its fate. "A noble bird, you shall make a fine meal." Though that was hardly a praise... interrupted by a squealing whimper in the nearby bushes, causing Kjell to be the one who actually flinched. "...Who goes there?" He announced in a hiss, swinging his sword to the direction of the shrub. No one would make a fool of him... or his to-be lunch. What a shock he must have got, to see a pair of lilac eyes staring out at him in the shadows and darkness, like luminous orbs. A child... surely not!

Kjell, being more sympathetic to an innocent child than a gutsy bird, kneeled down in a painfully slow manner, setting his weapon aside to pose no threat. "...Come here, I will not harm you, little one..." He offered in his sedating tone of voice, even going so far as to smile, for he knew his sharp features could give an intimidating impression... especially to children, or so it seemed that way. "Don't be so shy... here." Untying the knot that kept his night blue cape around his shoulders, the elder held it out in his pale arms, like a little blanket for a toddler to cuddle up in. The promise of heat was what truly lured the boy out of his futile hiding place, and what a shock he was! That hair colour...soft and ivory white... it was not natural, surely? And those eyes... like semi-precious gems, and skin that was pale beyond words. He was a beautiful little boy, and it seemed he was out here alone... alone, peculiar in appearance, and wearing nothing but a small tunic of what he was assuming to be an assembly of Elk horn shedding's. Clever child. Automatically, that vibrant billed bird flew to the young ones side, eyeing Kjell up suspiciously. He did not trust this other being, which was disrupting his owner and his own game of hide and go seek. The intruder though, was far too absorbed by the little boy in front of him, his action of wrapping the child in his cape like that of a mindless man who did nothing but obey orders. "...Can you talk?" Kjell inquired, studying the boy with complete adoration for his innocent appearance. His reply was nothing but a shy snuggling motion to his chest, neither a yes or no. "...I'll take you back to camp then, little one..." So, with young, cape adorned child in his arms, and reluctant puffin on his shoulder, of whom was planning to stick by his owner no matter what, Kjell trudged through the snowy tundra, hoping he could find his way back fairly soon, considering that the skies were darkening, and the sun waited for no man. 


	2. Back to Camp

Camp, fortunately, had been set up a little while before Kjell could be seen in the distance, carrying a small bundle in his arms, and a rather curious looking bird on his left shoulder... much to the frustration of the Vikings he had brought along on the journey, solely because he, in their eyes, had skipped out on helping set up for the night. Except for Mathias, who rushed towards Kjell with open arms and an expression of great, over flowing joy. "Kjell-" He began, his voice like a relieved sob, before Kjell's palm had slammed into his face, obscuring it. "Shut up." Was the poor Danes reply, a common one, but as usual, Mathias did not hear it. Instead, he shooed away Kjell's hand and looked down endearingly at the little dove toned child in Kjell's cape, who in turn, shyly smiled at the beefy built man, before hiding his head into Kjell's chest. "...Kjell! You have gave birth to our son!" The Dane shrieked excitedly, jumping up and down like an over excited child, though once more, he was calmly shot down. "No. I doubt a man giving birth is even possible, and do not talk like we are on intimate terms." Kjell had to snarl the last part, as though trying to convince himself more than Mathias... but that would not matter. It was not like Mathias to listen to anyone. "I found him in a forest area nearby... he was alone." Kjell cooed gently to the little boy in his arms, revealing that even he had a soft side, and it seemed to manifest itself in this young boy. Mathias though, had taken disinterest already, shrugging and turning to the fire that had been started in the middle of the 'settlement' of tents. The kid was not his problem, so if Kjell wanted to keep him, fine.

Kjell marched rather quickly past them men who were sitting around the fire, drinking what was most likely ale from the horns of cows, a common way to drink beverages. Kjell, though, was never one for the drinking, so he was all too happy to enter his own tent, one with a simple lantern on the floor to light it and keep it warm, the fabric of it probably the skins of some animals. At least they had bear skin blankets to keep them warm, and the little child, whose appearance was like that of Winter, had Kjell's dark cloak to give at least a little more warmth. Judging by this terrain, he would need it. But for now, the taller Norwegian simply placed the boy on the ground, tilting his head in thought. "Do you have a name, little one?" He questioned, his voice nothing but a soft wisp of air. The answer? A simple shake of the head. "Very well... then I shall name you. Eirikur. Can you say that?" It seemed as though Kjell was determined to get some answer from this boy, a verbal response, even a noise. It seemed as though someone had granted his wish though, as the little male began to stutter in a little speech. "E-Eirikur?" He repeated, tugging at Kjell's trousers in what was motion of pure innocence. "Eirikur..." He spoke once again, pointing to himself, and then spreading both hands up towards this towering man. "Storebror!" He chirped. Apparently, the Puffin understood this sooner than Kjell, as it made that obtuse noise once more, for once, nuzzling up against the downright shocked man's face. His potential dinner was being affectionate to him... and Storebror, big brother? Well so be it. If he was to be a big brother, then he would make a damn good one! Nodding in confirming determination, Kjell removed that seemingly stern mask of an expression on his face, replacing it with a gentle, sincere smile that was fuelled by the sense of worth Eirikur was giving him. "Kjell, storebror. Eirikur, lillebror. Ja?" He sighed in such a passive content, sitting on his knees so that he could be at a better level with this loving child, lanky, pale fingers ruffling even paler hair, messing it up in a bedhead of silver, greys and whites.

"Ja!" Eirikur cried out in a joyous little voice, wrapping his little arms around his newly acquired storebror, hardly believing what this day had been like. At first, he was playing hide and seek with Mr Puffin, as he did every day, and then along comes someone else who was just like him! With legs and arms and a body like his! Albeit, bigger, but still. Eirikur had never seen another person before, only animals that graced his land. Puffins, elk, falcons, once, he had even seen a polar bear! But that had been a long time ago... and now he had found his big brother!

Then came the news that no child ever wanted to hear. "It's a good idea for you to get some sleep, lillebror. It is bed time." To which, Eirikur whined and decided to try his luck with gazing up at Kjell with those bright, amethyst toned eyes. Better luck next time. As adorable as he found it, Kjell was determined to be strict with his lillebror, so as to raise him correctly, or so he thought. "No, don't use puppy eyes; you must go to sleep now... I'll go with you, if you like?" At least he could compromise. The thought of not having to sleep alone indeed made the boy more willing to rest, so when the elder arranged a bed of furs and pelts, laying in it himself, Eirikur did not complain.

Catching the puffin that decided it would be happier with its owner again, the boy followed his big brothers lead and lay down next to him with gentle rustling, grateful for all this warmth, as he had been sleeping in a hollow log at first, then at the shelled out base of a tree up until his storebror found him. Neither had been warm or comfortable, so now... now he just felt so grateful, so blessed, and it seemed Puffin felt that way too, nestling beside Eirikur with an eager bleat of approval. The caressing heat that was battling against the cool of his skin was almost enough to send the Icelandic toddler to sleep, but what really sent him to dreamland was that murmured lullaby that his storebror must have been singing in an ancient, Norse language. Those toned, accented words hung like soft, puffy clouds, slowly disappearing with a misty quality, as violet eyes slid closed until the morning sun rose once more.


	3. The Lake

Crystals of snow shone like pure diamonds when the bright, saffron glow from the sun finally hit the land, innocent and fresh, recently untouched by man. All around the island, nature was waking, moving, and the silent hustle and bustle of nature taking its course. Including a certain little Icelander. Normally, a child would never be up so early, but his little internal clock ran by natures time, not a regular human's, so he crawled his way out of his cocoon of animal pelts and let out a silent little yawn, rubbing his eyes. "Storebror?" He asked, glancing over at his blonde brother, who was blissfully sleeping in his own, thinner bundle of animal furs, shuddering from the lack of heat. Well, Eirikur was not going to leave him like that. No, this man had been so kind to him, enough so to prompt the little Icelander to drag the bedding he had been in over to the Norwegian, settling the brown and grey furs on top of him smiling with that every shy expression of his. "Storebror." He repeated, before running out the tent, grinning at the freshness of the new day. Puffin was probably already waiting for him.

The landscape, vast and varied, was rather a normality for little Eirikur, as he had travelled since… well, since he could walk. Now, he was making his way to a frozen over lake, where both he and his flying companion knew kept a lot of fish. Perhaps… if he caught some fish… Storebror would be happy with him! So driven by this optimistic thought, he set his plum coloured eyes on the iced over body of water before him, waving to the little puffin who had been waiting very patiently on an intrusive rock. Despite the very little social communication between the two… there was a bond. A strong one. After all, Eirikur had no parents, and Puffins had been killed by Arctic foxes… leaving them both, lost little orphans, wandering the island and taking refugee where possible. Puffin helped Eirikur find food, and Eirikur did his utmost best to protect Puffin, his best friend, of course.

It had taken him about an hour of wandering along the thick, glazed ice, but the frosty themed child finally was able to break a hole in the ice, equipped with a stick with an elongated piece of what must have been the inside of a plant tied to it, a little bit of meat from a carcass that Puffin had found, and voila, a fishing pole. Oh he was so excited, because big brother Kjell would be so proud that he got up early and caught breakfast, so excited that he wiggled his little cloth covered feet and began singing a little song to himself, about fish and puffins and elk, until a roaring voice was heard from the horizon… and it wasn't Danish. For a moment there… the child thought… Storebror... No! Storebror was never loud and angry sounding; it was probably just an animal, until it sounded again.  
"Eirikur!" Now that was unmistakably Storebror, and he was not happy. "Eirikur! Get off that ice, NOW! Do you have any idea how scared I was! I thought wolves had gobbled you up, or a bear had taken you! Don't you EVER go away without telling me again! EVER!" The normally placid nation was screaming at the point, pale features gone red and eyes highly focused on the little boy out on the ice, a stark contrast to his usual state… but who could blame him? He had been so terrified that something had happened to Eirikur that something had hurt him or even killed him, and now… he was just losing his temper, releasing all the usually pent up worry in his mind.  
Needless to say, Eirikur was not impressed. He was horrified to have made Storebror so angry… but it wasn't fair. Had he not come out here to get breakfast? To make Kjell ruffle his soft hair and tell him well done? Well he would take fishing over being scolded any day, so he just sat on his bottom, bottom lip trembling like the calm before the storm, his raw little hands grasping onto the stick tightly, like a modern day garden gnome. "S-Storebror isn't meant to yell… He's meant to give me cuddles and kisses…" Eirikur turned to his feathered friend, wanting someone to listen.  
"Eirikur! Get over here!" The Norman demanded once more.  
"No! You're scary and you shout!" Was the Icelander's reply, his expression one that defied Kjell, making immature faces at him. "I don't like you!" The boy whined even more, shuffling to the other side of the lake, being extra careful as to where he was spreading his weight, making sure not to hit a specifically thin spot. But Kjell? He just marched out onto the ice, eyes filled with worried anger. Eirikur had left him… and he had burst into everyone's tents, accusing them of harming his beloved lillebror. "Stop being so disobedient! Get back here!" Then there was the crack. Not just any crack. A deep, resounding one, almost as though it came from the inner mechanisms of the Earth itself. Foolish Kjell.

The Norwegian took a few minutes to compose himself, the red flush of upset long gone as he just… stood. The ice… one wrong move, and he was a goner. Eirikur did not have the strength to pull him out… not even with the Puffin. Speaking of which, the two of them had been staring in shocked fear for a fair amount of time, contemplating what to do. Should they go get Mathias? But what if Storebror had fallen by then? He needed to get help somehow… and the only other human assistance was that of the Viking settlers, so perhaps, if Puffin managed to get them, then Storebror could be saved! Though it was getting Eirikur nervous as to how he swayed, a few uneasy cracks surrounding his foot. With Puffin bleating off to get more help, it left just the two brothers, staring intently at the other. Each was upset, but the younger of the two was more outwardly so, sobbing quietly. "I'm sorry… please, please! I promise I won't go away without telling you! Promise! I want… cuddles…" The little boy tottered out, causing an outcry from Kjell, his body almost flailing from panic of it all. "Don't be stupid!" He cried out, amazed at how idiotic they were both being. "You can get cuddles when Storebror is on land! Go back! Eirikur!" But did the boy listen? No. He wanted, no, needed cuddles. If he didn't get cuddles, then the feeling of fear rose within him, making him wish he could scream and shriek until his body was relieved of the emotion. So, with tiny feet now next to his, and conveniently placed next to a giant crack in the solid liquid, Kjell twitched from the whole situation… he had been so… recklessly brain-dead. And now a toddler had followed him onto the thinner ice. Some role model.  
"Storebror! It's that big man!" Eirikur chirped, staring behind him as the black silhouette of Puffin glided against the pale baby blue sky, and the running form of a strong built followed suit, calling out to the unimpressed Norwegian.  
"Of all the men, your bird chooses him, Eirikur…we may need to retrain him." Kjell made sure to say this when Mathias was within earshot, in a hopeful bout of spite.  
"Kjell… you were always the one telling me to be careful once the ice! And the little man too… Well come on! Take my hand!" Mathias was all too happy to offer his hand out to Kjell, but rather disappointed to have the pesky child handed to him instead. If he recalled, the whole reason the Norwegian had came out was to find his 'lillebror' so it was easy to see who the Dane blamed the most. Not that he could say that in front of Kjell, or his fate would be threatened.  
Even within the jealously, Mathias complied, grabbing hold of little Eirikur and settling the tiny yet-to-be-known nation in the deep snow, only to be alerted when the ice let out another thunderous crack, then a complete smash as it gave way under Kjell's feet, splashing freezing water into the air, and engulfing the young Nordic. "Kjell!" The Dane cried out, the everlasting smile wiped off his face as he reached over for the flailing hands of his best friend, slipping grip as quickly as he got it. Puffin and his owner were rather disorientated as well, wailing and squawking in fear, panic, and pure, raw shock.

Finally, a good grasp before Kjell disappeared to an aquatic grave.  
The younger male had struggled with the waters with all his might, now a limp, panting heap. But alive, thanks to Mathias's strong grip on his hand. Alive. His head spun, white everywhere, then someone's back… yes… Mathias's back… he must have been slung over it… and then the sharp sound of a hand hitting flesh. It was not his, for no pain was felt. A few steps the Dane took, before the after mass of punishment revealed itself. Eirikur, innocent little Eirikur, lying in the snow with his red raw hands holding onto a similarly toned face. It must have been him that was slapped. Of course it would be. In the larger male's eyes, none of this would have happened if that boy had not been around. He was useless, not wanted… disposable. Who needed such a troublesome brat?

Kjell needed him. That same boy had given him a new reason to get up each morning; instead of fighting, eating, and serving his people… the boy had given him something no one else had been able to. Family. With that heart-warming note left in his mind, the Norwegian smiled weakly, before closing his eyes in semi-conscious rest, wanting to kick and hurt his companion for the pain he caused lillebror… but the need for recuperation had swallowed his being.


End file.
